


Need A Second to Breathe

by likethedirection



Series: Between Two Lungs [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Allow me to share them, Gen, I had opinions about S3E5, phone conversation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-29
Updated: 2012-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-18 05:44:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1417267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likethedirection/pseuds/likethedirection
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two late-night conversations from 3x05, both ending with good-night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. But Now, Here We Are

It was one hour after Blaine had stormed off, fifty-eight minutes after Kurt had realized Blaine was _walking home drunk near a seedy gay bar_ , fifty-five minutes after he’d chased him down and muscled him into the backseat to drive him silently home, thirty minutes after Kurt had leaned against his own front door and tried not to cry, and ten minutes after he had been snapped at for no reason by Finn, snapped back, and retreated to his room for exfoliating and comfy sweats, that Kurt noticed he had a text message.

He looked warily at the notification screen.

“If you are from Blaine, I am deleting you,” he murmured. Then he opened the message.

It wasn’t from Blaine.

_> > **David K:** heard u yellin u ok_

Kurt let out all his breath at once, deflating, and dropped his face into his hand, remembering that oh yeah, he was a _terrible human being_. He’d just l _eft him at the bar_. Not a word of warning, not even a ‘nice talking to you.’ Because of stupid _Sebastian_ and stupid _Blaine_ drinking stupid _beer_ and basically having clothed sex on the dance floor.

(He stopped thinking about Blaine then, about that bar and that parking lot and the backseat of his car, because it made something cold grip in the pit of his stomach.)

He looked back at the message.

Talking to Dave had been…nice. Still a bit tense, perhaps, but nice. Low-drama. Almost easy. He hadn’t been Karofsky in that bar--he had been Dave. Dave, who smiled and wore baseball caps and rather eerily resembled Kurt’s dad.

It was strangely comforting, really.

Comforting. Yeah. That would be good.

Kurt hit _Redial_.

Dave answered on the second ring, and Kurt cleared his throat. “Hi.”

“Hey.”

“I, um. I just got your text. Sorry for not responding until now.”

“No problem,” Dave said, and it felt like it really wasn’t. “Just thought I’d check. Haven’t heard you yell like that in a while.”

Kurt surprised himself with a laugh; he had a feeling he knew exactly how long ‘a while’ was. “I would imagine.”

He dropped into silence, and he knew this was the part where he was supposed to say, ‘Well, I’m fine, but thanks for checking,’ and leave Dave to enjoy the rest of his night. Instead, he hesitated. “I...want to apologize for running off and leaving you at the bar like that. It was rude. Apparently I forget all my manners when I’m feeling territorial.”

Dave chuckled quietly. “It’s cool. I get it.”

“Still.” Kurt traced the woodwork on his vanity with his fingernail, feeling strange and off-balance and like if he hung up, he might fall to pieces. “So…you’re really okay? At the new school?”

“Yeah,” Dave said. “I mean, it’s a new school. Whatever. But it’s a clean slate, you know?”

Kurt smiled, ducking his eyes. “I know.”

On the other end of the line was a quick exhale. “Yeah, guess you do.”

“Are you...making friends?”

“Guys on the football team are all right. Not painting each other’s nails and trading friendship bracelets or anything, but they’re cool. Pretty much just trying to keep my head down, though. Senior year, everyone’s kinda got their niche.”

“Yeah,” Kurt said quietly. The openness in Dave’s voice, and the shade of sadness, made guilt grip him to the core. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. For not…being supportive. Before.”

“Uh, I was stalking you like a psycho. _I_ wouldn’t have supported me.”

“Did anyone?” Kurt asked, feeling small, and Dave sighed.

“Not really,” he said, sounding unbothered, if a little quieter. “S’mostly why I’m here now. Balancing act wasn’t worth it anymore.”

“I suppose not,” Kurt said. “In any case, I…I’m sorry I didn’t handle the situation better.”

“You and me both,” Dave said softly, and Kurt smiled. “Gonna need you to quit apologizing now, though.”

Kurt breathed a laugh. “I will if you will.”

“Deal.” Dave said with a faint smile in his voice. “So you ever gonna answer if you’re okay?”

“Oh. Right. Yeah, I’m fine,” Kurt said, too quickly. “Blaine was just drunk and he scared me a little, so I yelled at him, and then he yelled back and stormed off, and…yeah. Lots of yelling.”

Dave was quiet a moment. “How’d he scare you?”

Kurt grimaced, because he really hadn’t meant to say that part.

“Just...you know. People are unpredictable when they’re drunk. I’m an old-fashioned boy. I like predictable. And he was wrinkling my outfit practically beyond repair. Few things can inspire fear in Kurt Hummel more quickly than a ruined wardrobe.”

It was possibly the worst lie Kurt had told since the Phase Which Must Not Be Named sophomore year, and he smacked a hand to his forehead as soon as it was out of his mouth.

To his credit, Dave didn’t laugh at him outright. “Gonna go ahead and not buy it,” he said slowly, and Kurt dropped his hand back to his side. “Look, you don’t have to tell me what happened. Not my business. Just making sure you weren’t getting kidnapped or something while I was getting chatted up by Cher.”

A laugh bubbled out of Kurt, and he covered it with his hand. “Well, now I _know_ I should have stayed.”

“Yeah, then I could have gotten the fuck out of there while she spent a half hour on _your_ lap.”

“Oh, _my_.”

“Yeah, no way.”

“Don’t believe in life after love, huh?”

Dave sadly replied, “Really don’t think I’m strong enough.”

Kurt really did laugh this time, hard enough that his eyes began to water, and he could hear Dave snickering on the other end of the line, and for a few seconds it was like Sebastian and Blaine and the backseat had never happened.

“Thank you,” Kurt gasped when he’d finally gotten himself under control. “Thank you for that. I needed that.”

“Live to serve,” Dave said through a smile. “And she didn’t get handsy or anything, so it’s all good.”

Slowly, Kurt sobered. “Does...that happen? I mean, if you’re going there by yourself...is it safe?”

“They’re cool there,” Dave said. “Half of them know I’m underage. Pretty sure _all_ of them knew you were.”

“Hey, now.”

“Seriously?”

Kurt sighed. “I _did_ find dubious that we made it past the door. Blaine is two feet tall and I started panicking as soon as the guy took my ID. I think I said ‘aloha’ at one point.”

Dave laughed, and Kurt was amazed at how easy it was to get used to that sound. “I freaked out my first time, too. Thing is, they’re used to high school kids showing up there. Lima’s a hick town. They know there aren’t a lot of places we...we can go to just exist for a while.”

Kurt found himself nodding, unexpectedly touched.

“So they’re pretty lenient about the age limit there. The cops don’t wanna deal with the place, so they kinda pretend it doesn’t exist. So they aren’t too scared about legal action, or anything. And there are a few regulars who’ve been going there since it opened--know the owner and everything--and they’re the ones who make sure we don’t get into too much trouble.” There was a rustling, like he was switching ears. “I did get a couple creeps in my business the first month or two, but Evan and Karla got a whiff of it and tossed them out the door so fast I barely even knew what happened.”

Something slowly uncoiled in Kurt’s stomach. “That’s good.”

“Yeah. Evan’s a cool guy. Sounds kind of weird that I’m friends with him, since he’s like, forty? But we shoot pool sometimes. Talk. It’s cool, because he’s--he used to be...like me. But now he does all this stuff for gay rights. Youth programs and stuff. Counseling.” Dave’s voice animated as he spoke, admiration shining through. “He’s helped me a lot.”

Kurt smiled. “So they really are looking out for you.”

“You, too,” Dave said quietly, and Kurt snapped to attention.

“What?”

“Yeah,” Dave said. “Heard them talking about some hawks checking out the ‘sweet little chicken at the bar.’ Karla’s words, not mine. She was gonna park it and talk at you until they left, but I saw it was you and so...you know.”

There was too much new information for Kurt’s tired brain to deal with in those three sentences, so it zeroed in on just one piece.

“Chicken.”

“S’what she said.”

“I’m a _chicken_.”

“Makes you feel any better, your boyfriend is a pocket gay.”

Kurt blinked. “A what?”

“Pocket gay. Like you can fit him in your pocket.” It sounded like he was trying not to smile. “‘Cause he’s short as fuck.”

Kurt sputtered a little. “Oh my God. _Pokéblaine_.” Dave laughed into his ear, and Kurt bit his lip to keep from getting the giggles himself. “That actually does make me feel better. Clearly I’m a terrible boyfriend.”

“Well, yeah. Sitting by yourself at the bar while he grinds on another guy all night, then driving him home after? What an asshole.”

“Wait. There was grinding?”

Dave chuckled. “Retract the claws. I was just saying shit.”

Kurt let out his breath, stretching his thumb and forefinger across his eyes. “Don’t joke about that. The last time he got drunk, he spent the evening doing the tongue-tango with Rachel Berry.”

“Dude. Gross.”

“Right? After which he slept in my bed and tried nothing all night. But then tonight he wants--”

He caught himself a little too late and grimaced. He shook his head, even though Dave couldn’t see him. “Well, anyway. I’m sure you didn’t sign up for a rant on my boyfriend’s sexy liquor adventures. Sorry.”

Dave was quiet for a long time, and when he spoke again, his voice was low like a secret. “Did he hurt you?”

There wasn’t much use deflecting now, and Kurt sighed. “No. No, he just...he scared me. He stopped,” he added, because that was important, “but for a second...I-I just got freaked out. It’s fine, though. I mean, I’m fine. We’ll be fine.”

The pause on the other end told Kurt he probably didn’t sound too convincing now, either, but Dave didn’t call him on it this time. “Anything I can do?”

Kurt grinned, because however horrible Karofsky might have been, _Dave_ was turning out to be rather sweet. Tentatively, he replied, “This?”

Dave exhaled in the shape of a smile. Kurt ducked his eyes, feeling shy all of a sudden.

After a second, Dave cleared his throat, and there was some more shuffling, like he was settling in. “So am I totally losing my mind, or did I see your dad calling out Sue Sylvester on live TV?”

“Oh, God,” Kurt groaned, finally leaving the vanity and flopping flat on his back on his bed. “No, you are not crazy, but I think I might be. Or my dad. We all know Coach Sylvester is.” Dave made an amused sound, and Kurt threw his arm over his eyes. “I thought it was a good idea at first, but now...I don’t know.”

“I don’t think it’s the worst idea,” Dave offered, and Kurt could almost hear the shrug in his voice. “Seem to remember your dad being kind of a badass.”

“Oh, he’s great,” Kurt said, though he did flash for a moment on the moment his dad had chased Karofsky down the hall and pinned him to the wall, how he had never felt so utterly terrified and utterly protected at the same time. “This is a whole new world for him, and he’s...thriving, really. But there’s so much stress, and I just...I worry about him. And he doesn’t think it will be a problem if and _when_ someone zeroes in on the fact that he has a gay son, but he’s obviously forgotten about the phone calls we used to get, and how much they upset him. And those were just the times he got to the phone first.”

Dave was quiet, and Kurt got his breath, unable to stop the words from spilling out now that there was nothing stopping them. “Some of them were...really bad. There were threats, reminders about how easy it was to find an address when you knew the phone number...one, when my dad was in the hospital, said God was taking my parents because _fags_ don’t deserve...”

“Don’t deserve what?” Dave asked, stiff and a little hoarse.

Kurt shook his head. “I hung up.”

Dave sighed. “That’s...really shitty.”

“Pretty much,” Kurt mumbled. “That’s the last time I got a call like that, but I’m pretty sure that’s because I was in Westerville. And I just know that the second my dad makes any headway, our lives will suddenly be under this spotlight. This...microscope. It’s going to start again, and I’m...not doing a great job of encouraging you to embrace the gay life, am I?”

A laugh, but it was weak. “That’s your angle, huh?”

“No,” Kurt said immediately, shaking his head at himself. “No. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m trying to be better at bonding with others _without_ having an angle. With...varied success.”

This time the laugh was real, and Kurt pulled his arm away from his face, beaming a little at the ceiling. Tentatively, Dave said, “So, we’re bonding?”

“I would say so,” Kurt said through a rather stupidly big smile. “Considering, I would say we’re definitely coming along.”

“I’d say so, too.”

Kurt’s voice dropped to almost a whisper on its own. “Thank you for texting me. I...I think I needed it more than I thought I did.”

Almost gently, Dave said, “Anytime.”

“Careful. I might take you up on that.”

“As long as we’re not singing Cher, I’m cool with it.”

“Damn. There goes my plan for our next bonding session.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“You should be. I was going to make costumes. Figured when we were done with them, I could peddle them at the next Drag Queen Night.”

Dave broke first, and the smile stayed in his voice, even as it quieted. “It was...” He cleared his throat. “It was pretty cool. Seeing you there.”

“Likewise,” Kurt said. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to sneak out there again, but if I did, it would be comforting to have someone to talk to other than my boyfriend and the guy who’s eye-sexing him.”

“Yeah. Yeah, let me know. I mean, if...yeah. My dad barely notices I’m around now that I’m not dragging him to the principal’s office to defend my character three times a month, so whenever. I can be there.”

The tug of sadness crept back into Kurt’s chest, but something in Dave’s tone told him not to go there, so he just said, “I’ll let you know. Definitely.”

“Cool.”

“Well,” Kurt said, finally sitting up and crossing his legs on the mattress, “if you ever get tired of ‘keeping your head down,’ give me a call.”

Dave snorted and said, “Uhh...” and Kurt realized how that had sounded.

Clapping a hand to his face, he groaned, “Oh, shut up! You _know_ what I meant.” Dave just chuckled even more helplessly, and Kurt sighed loudly. “Such a _boy_. I think it’s someone’s bedtime.”

“It might kinda be stupid-in-the-morning,” Dave admitted, still laughing.

“Clearly. I’m going to go before any more of my well-intentioned offers are twisted into offers of self-whoring.”

“Aw, don’t be like that.”

Kurt’s face was actually starting to hurt from smiling so much. “I’ve genuinely enjoyed chatting with you, Mr. Bear Cub.”

“We should do this again, Chickadee.”

Kurt snorted--he actually snorted. “ _Chickadee_? You are officially my grandpa.”

Dave exhaled a laugh. “Night, Kurt.”

“Good night, Dave.”

Kurt hung up the phone, looked at it a moment with a smile that hadn’t quite faded, and then flopped onto his back again, taking a deep breath in and slowly out.

Okay.

He could do this.


	2. 'Cause You're Doing It Perfectly

By the time Kurt knocked on the door, Finn’s mind had gone from its initial refrain of _holycrapholycrapholycrapSEX_ , to a more subdued, _I totally just had sex with Rachel_ , to a more hesitant, _I totally just had sex with Rachel for the right reason, right?_ to a truly despondent, _I totally just had sex with Rachel because I’m a loser and she felt bad for me._

So when he heard the two polite knocks that always belonged to his stepbrother, Finn could barely summon the motivation to pry his eyes away from the ceiling. Sitting up was totally out of the question. And he didn’t really want to talk to anyone, but he felt bad for snapping at Kurt the other night when he’d gotten back from that weird bar looking all freaked out, and for never actually asking him _why_ he looked so freaked out, and...yeah. Maybe he was a crappy dancer and a sucky quarterback and too stupid to string five words together, but he could at least try to be a not-terrible brother.

Weakly, he called, “It’s open.”

The door wasn’t shut all the way, so he didn’t feel quite as bad for not getting it for Kurt, since he could just push it open with his foot without spilling the two steaming mugs in his hands.

He kicked the door closed again behind him and went right to Finn’s desk chair, like always, setting the mugs down. "Hey."

"Hey." Finn took a glance at the mugs, then let his eyes drift back to the ceiling. "Thanks, but I'm kinda not in the mood, man."

"Yeah," Kurt said, swiveling absently back and forth in the chair, his eyes on the floor. "Me either."

They sat for a little while, silent, just breathing.

"Finn?" Finn looked over, but Kurt wasn't looking back, just sort of staring at the floor and biting his lip. "Can you--off the top of your head--can you tell me one time when I did something for the right reason?"

Finn blinked at him, then thought about it. "Yeah. A lot of times."

"Like?"

"Like...you transferred schools for the right reason."

Kurt's shoulders slumped, and crap, that was the wrong answer. "Sorry," Finn said quickly. "Bad example. Uh...like...like the wedding."

Kurt looked tentatively up, and his eyes were big and vulnerable like they were so rarely now, and Finn latched on to it. "You had a lot of really bad crap going on that no one even knew about, but you planned that whole wedding so that they'd have the best night ever. Even though...I mean, I know it was probably hard not to think about your mom." Kurt's eyes glazed a bit, and Finn wondered if he shouldn't have gone there, but now it was already out. "You didn't do it to make yourself feel better, or to get back at anybody, or to manipulate anyone. You just did it 'cause you love your dad."

The corners of Kurt's mouth curved up in a tiny smile. "I love everyone in my family, Finn."

Finn's chest went all funny, kind of the way it would when Burt called him 'buddy' or when they would sit down to dinner and all four chairs would have people in them. He couldn't quite keep back a crooked little smile, then rolled his eyes at himself and stretched out an arm, making grabby motions with his hand. "Gimme."

"Are we five?" Kurt said with a lifted brow, but he handed Finn his mug nonetheless.

Finn sat up and sipped on his milk, and he was pretty sure Kurt had some kind of milk-heating superpowers, because the temperature was always perfect. He swallowed, and the warmth spread through his chest and his belly, making him feel a little better already.

"Hey," he said after a while, and Kurt looked up from his own mug. "What about me?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean...did I ever do something for the right reason?"

Kurt looked at him with that expression Finn could never read, then smiled a little. "The wedding?"

Finn laughed, ducking his head.

"I'm serious. I mean, unless Rachel bribed you with third-base privileges or your mom put you up to it, that was...it meant a lot, Finn. No one has ever done anything like that for me."

And Rachel and third-base in the same sentence sort of made Finn's head swim, so he focused on the other parts. "Well, now Blaine has, right? I mean, I wasn't there, but I heard."

Funnily enough, Kurt's face changed, like his head was swimming, too. "He's my boyfriend, Finn. He's supposed to dance with me. It was exceptionally brave of him to do it in front of the whole junior class, but the wedding...that was really special. No one can duplicate that, no matter who they are."

Finn stretched a leg out to nudge Kurt's with his foot, because that was just easier to do sometimes when the stuff in his head got a little too sappy to say out loud. Kurt smiled, because he got it.

But the smile faded fast, and Kurt dropped his gaze to his mug, curling up in the desk chair and looking very small. A little sadly, he murmured, "At least we can do a wedding right."

"Guess so." Finn looked at his milk, then looked at him, at how he was looking a little rumpled and sitting a little stiff, and he set his issues aside. "Hey. Did something happen?"

Kurt's eyes snapped up, and for a second he looked almost scared. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know. You're quiet."

Kurt tilted his head to the side, studying him and making him want to squirm a little. "So are you."

"I asked you first."

Kurt frowned, then sighed, looking away. "It's nothing."

"Bet it's not."

"Well, you're wrong. I mean, yes, okay, something kind of happened, but it's not...anything you need to worry about. Or think about. Ever."

He was shutting down, and Finn hated it when he did that. Plus, it usually meant that whatever it was, it wasn't nothing. Finn frowned, trying to think when something could have happened. "I mean...was it the after-party? I didn't ask how that--"

"I didn't go."

"Really?" There was a moment of delayed panic as Finn realized that Rachel had been here and they'd been...yeah, and _Kurt could have walked in at any second_. "Wait, then where were you?"

Kurt looked like he didn't want to answer, but then he did, tossing it out short and casual with his eyes fastened to the wall. "Blaine's."

"Oh." Finn thought on it, grasped at the only thing he'd heard about Kurt and Blaine that week. "So...you guys made up?"

Kurt exhaled a short, sharp laugh. "Um. Yes. Yes, we did."

"That's good." It didn't explain why Kurt was acting so weird, or why he was still sitting sort of funny, all curled up and quiet and...oh.

_Oh._

"Oh," Finn blurted, and Kurt immediately went super-tense, like he thought he was going to get hit or something. "Dude. Whoa. Wait. Were you with Blaine, like watching weird musicals on the couch and making fun of people's clothes-with-Blaine, or were you... _with Blaine?_ "

And oh God, that was making images pop in his mind that no almost-brother should ever, ever see, and when Kurt tensed up even more and didn't answer, it was all Finn could do not to whimper.

"So," he managed to say in a voice that wasn't too squeaky, "...you did?"

Kurt took a deep breath in and out, looked at him, looked at himself, looked away. "Yes. We did."

"...Oh," Finn said again, unable to think of any actual words for a second because _oh my God._

Kurt had sex with Blaine.

"'Oh,'" Kurt agreed, his voice flat.

And Finn had sex with Rachel.

“Dude.”

_At the same time._

And it was so ridiculous and kind of disturbing and this day had him so emotionally _wiped_ that there was nothing else he could do.

He burst out laughing.

Like, _hard_.

Until Kurt's eyes flashed with hurt like a fresh scrape, and then hardened, and he stood up, all hunched in on himself, muttered something like 'told you you didn't have to think about it' and made a beeline for the door.

"No!" Finn yelped, still laughing a little even though he felt _horrible_ now, and he threw himself off the bed and grabbed Kurt before he could slam the door. "No, no, no, no, no. Come here." He tugged Kurt back into the room and pulled him into a hug. "Not like that, I'm not laughing at you."

"Yes, you are," Kurt said, pushing at him, but there wasn’t a whole lot of fire to it, and Finn held him snug and tight.

"No, I'm seriously not," he said, finally able to tone his laughing down to a smile. "I'm laughing because we were totally meant to be brothers, dude."

"Start making sense, please," Kurt grumbled against his shoulder, but he wasn’t fighting him anymore. Not hugging back, but not fighting.

Finn patted him gently on the back, then loosened his grip. "Because what are the chances that you'd do it with Blaine and I'd do it with Rachel on the same night?"

Kurt went very still.

Then he gently pulled back from Finn and stared up at him, his mouth open a little. Another second, and he closed it. Very slowly, he said, “You...and Rachel?”

Finn nodded.

“In this house?”

Nodded again.

“In this _room?_ ”

Finn froze. “Uh.”

Kurt’s gaze darkened, and Finn almost took a step back, because Scary Kurt was almost as bad as Scary Quinn.

“...Okay,” Kurt said. “I am going to go and take a very long shower. By the time I get out, you will have _thoroughly_ restored, scrubbed, and disinfected a certain area of this house, and I will under _no_ circumstances _ever_ find out which area that is. Then we will talk.” Kurt glared up at him. “Are there any questions?”

Finn quickly shook his head.

“Good. I will see you in a half hour.”

“Yeah. Totally.”

Kurt spun on heel and walked out. Finn stayed standing in the middle of his room, sort of afraid to move, until the shower squeaked on and had stayed on for fifteen seconds. Then he sprinted down the stairs for the equipment and cleaned everything up faster than he’d ever cleaned anything in his _life_.

-

Once they had settled in on the couch in the living room (where Finn had collapsed after his turbo cleaning adventure), the radio playing quietly, and Kurt looking smaller and less like a statue with his hair still damp on his forehead and his snuggly long-day sweatpants and T-shirt on, it all just sort of spilled out. How Rachel had asked him to be with her earlier in the week but it had turned out to be all about her, _again_ , and how he’d played so hard in football practice that he nearly made himself throw up when that recruiter was watching, and how the guy had basically told him to give up football because he sucked so bad, and how his future was going nowhere because he didn’t have anything to give it, and how Rachel had come to him tonight, and how they’d - at this point Kurt had cleared his throat, and Finn had clamped his mouth shut, then just skipped that part - and how now he was really, really freaked out because he just did this huge, huge thing with the girl he loved, and he thinks he might have done it all wrong.

And then he freaked out all over again, because when he looked up, Kurt’s eyes were really wet.

“I’m fine,” Kurt assured him, automatic and totally not convincing. “I’m fine. We’re on you now.”

But Finn didn’t really want it to be on him. Now that he’d talked through it, the whole story sounded...sort of messed up. Someone else’s problems would be way better. “Kurt. Come on, man. What’s up?”

Something in his face must have looked safe, because then Kurt started talking, and it sort of spilled out of him, too.

And it all sort of made Finn’s head spin - Blaine, and some Warbler guy who sounded like the crab from _Little Mermaid_ who was totally moving in on him right in front of Kurt, and a gay bar (Lima had a _gay bar?_ ), and Blaine doing that thing that made Finn want to drive straight to his house and beat the living _crap_ out of him until Kurt calmed him down and told him the rest, about the way they talked and how tonight was totally Kurt’s idea and now he was scared he’d done it all wrong too because he was jealous instead of ready - but in a way, it sort of felt like their stories were the same.

Kurt was sort of teary again by the time he finished, and Finn wasn’t doing too hot himself. “Guess we probably should have talked more this week, huh?”

“Yeah,” Kurt said through a shaky laugh, wiping at his eyes. “Clearly communication is the answer.” Sniffing, then taking a big breath, Kurt reached over and squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I was stuck in my own drama, and it made me neglect the other important people in my life.”

“Nah. It’s okay.” Finn squeezed back, then let go, frowning at the stereo and switching the radio to a better station. “I get it. I was distracted by my stuff, too.” Leaning back, he let out his breath. “If it makes you feel any better, I think you did more stuff for the right reasons than I did?”

“Oh, I beg to differ.”

“ _I_ beg to differ from your...begging...to differ.”

Which is how they ended up sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, their socked feet propped up on the edge of the coffee table, having one of the weirdest, but sort of best, conversations that Finn had ever had.

“Making friends with Rory.” Kurt held onto his elbows and nodded, like he’d been waiting to contribute that one. “Definitely done for the right reason.”

“Dude, you don’t even know why I made friends with him.”

“Why, then?”

Crap. “Just...’cause...I dunno. He didn’t have any. He seemed like a nice guy.”

“Case in point.”

Finn rolled his eyes, but gave it to him. “Okay, uh...” He thought a moment, then grinned, a little guiltily. “Getting Ms. Holliday to sub for Mr. Schue?”

Kurt laughed, his eyes twinkling. “Oh, yeah. Rachel never appreciated that I did it for her own personal safety.” He leaned his head back against the couch, looking thoughtfully at the ceiling. “Coming to Sectionals and saving us sophomore year.”

Finn grinned, a little sideways, and thought back. “Joining the Cheerios.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Finn met his gaze, a little sheepish. “I mean, you guys were right. Mr. Schue does sort of pick favorites.” _Like me._ “And on that Madonna song, you were really awesome. And you, like, won Nationals for the Cheerios all by yourself, didn’t you?”

Kurt’s shoulders twitched a bit with a chuckle he didn’t let out. “I wouldn’t go that far. But yes. Minus the institutionalized eating disorders, it was a good experience.” He pressed his lips together, then looked a little braver. Matter-of-factly, he said, “Breaking up with Rachel the first time.”

Finn blinked at him, and Kurt fearlessly looked back like those times when he _knew_ he was the only one in class who knew what he was talking about. “She made clear what she expected of you, which was an unbalanced and unfair relationship. She went out of her way to hurt you in one of the worst ways possible. It would have been easier to just forgive her so you could go back to being happy, but you didn’t. You paid attention to what _you_ wanted, and you called her on her hypocrisy. You ended it with her for exactly the right reason.” When Kurt put it like that, it made Finn sound a whole lot stronger than he actually was. It felt kind of nice. “You know I love Rachel, and I believe she’s trying to be better, but I was really proud of you for that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

A grin snuck across Finn’s face, and he bumped Kurt’s shoulder with his.

“Okay. My turn. Uh...planning that funeral for Coach Sylvester’s sister.”

“You did that, too.”

“Yeah, uh-uh. You designed the set, picked out all the music, planned out the whole service, _and_ dragged me out to get a new suit. I helped clean out her room and moved stuff where you told me to.”

“That counts.”

“What you did counts more.”

Kurt looked down, subdued. “Well. I had some practice.”

Finn thought back to that week when Burt was in the hospital, to the moment when he’d stumbled on Kurt in the library, a spiral notebook in his lap, looking like he was almost gone. Guilt gripped him; that was a time when Finn had definitely done every single thing for every single wrong reason, and he’d never totally forgiven himself for that.

Silently, he slung an arm around Kurt’s shoulders and let him lean comfortably in. Easy as breathing.

“It was really an awesome service, dude. Like...they _pay_ people to do that kind of stuff.”

Kurt huffed a breath and said quietly, “You couldn’t pay me enough.”

After a moment, Finn murmured, “It’s cool if you can’t think of any more.”

“Singing that song for Beth.”

He said it so simply, so easily, and it squeezed at Finn’s heart. He ducked his head. “She never actually got to hear it. I sort of just sang it to her ultrasound picture. And a chair.”

“Still.”

“Fine, then...helping me sing for her.”

“Nope.”

Finn drew back a bit to look questioningly at him, and Kurt shook his head. “Nothing I did sophomore year counts. Everything was for the wrong reasons. All of it.”

“Dude, no way.”

“Way. End of discussion.”

“ _No_ way, come on. We were all super awkward as sophomores. Dude, I’m _still_ super awkward.”

That made a laugh bubble out of Kurt, and Finn grinned, giving him a squeeze. He always felt better about himself when he could get Kurt from sort-of-hating-himself to laughing like everything was okay.

“You know what I think?” Kurt patted Finn’s knee and looked him in the eye. “I think you have more than enough to offer the world, Finn Hudson.”

Finn looked down, his face getting a little hot while his heart tried to decide whether it wanted to swell or sink. “Thanks, man. But I kinda think you’re wrong.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I stopped being wrong about things a year and a half ago.”

Finn’s mouth quirked up, but that’s as far as it got. “Like what, though? I can’t play football--”

“For OSU,” Kurt corrected. “Plenty of other ways you can play.”

“But I can’t go to NYADA--”

“There are over seven thousand institutions of higher education in the U.S. A lot of majors to choose from.”

“But Rachel says--”

Kurt’s face was suddenly deadly serious. “What does Rachel say?”

Finn’s eyes widened and his mouth shut, and it took a second to get it open again. “...I dunno. I just sort of get this vibe from her. Like if I don’t get out of Lima and be...better, then I’m just gonna...I don’t know.” He dropped his eyes to his lap. “Drag her down.”

Kurt was quiet a moment. Then he sat up, pulling away from Finn’s arm, and swiveled to face Finn, sitting up on his knees. Finn blinked with surprise when a cool hand came to cup the side of his face and gently coax him to look back. Once he did, Kurt’s other hand came to his other cheek, and he held his face there like Finn’s mom used to when he was little.

“Finnegan Christopher Hudson, you listen to me,” he said, and his voice was low and smooth and a lot stronger than Finn felt, and listening was all he could do. “You are a star.”

Finn automatically tried to shake his head, because no, _Rachel_ was the star, but Kurt held him in place. “No. Listen. One day, Rachel’s voice is going to give out. One day, that guy who got all that recruiter’s attention? His body is going to move past its prime, and I hate to say it, but I can only imagine he’ll be left with a score of health problems he ignored for the sake of his career. One day, heaven forbid, Mike’s dancing skills are going to slow down, and Sam’s six-pack will turn into a two-pack at best, and Puck’s going to get too tired to keep juggling women like torches at the fair. All of those things are going to fade, because all of them are temporary. They grow old with us, and at any moment, they could disappear.”

Finn’s brow pulled into a frown, and he drew breath to point out that this wasn’t really helping because it was sort of a huge downer, but Kurt wasn’t done.

“You, Finn Hudson,” he said, looking him straight in the eye, “are a genuinely good person.”

Finn blinked.

“You’re kind. You’re generous. You protect people who don’t have the things you have. For every fantastically disastrous mistake you make - and you have made them - you make up for it just as fantastically, and more. You can make someone laugh when all they want to do is cry.” Kurt’s mouth turned up a little. “I would know.”

Finn swallowed around a weird lump in his throat, feeling impossibly young.

“You give to people without expecting anything in return, you try as hard as you can to learn from your missteps, and you never stop trying to make yourself better. Those are all things that nothing and no one can take away from you.” His hands on Finn’s face tightened a little, but just a little. “People like you are _rare_ , Finn. _You_ are rare, and valuable beyond measure. And don’t you dare let anyone - not Rachel, not teachers or recruiters, not our parents, not _me_ \- make you forget that for one second.”

The lump grew so big he could hardly breathe, and he couldn’t stand it anymore. He flung his arms out and wrapped them all the way around Kurt’s middle, squeezing so tight that Kurt grunted a little before curling both arms around Finn’s shoulders.

Finn took a shaky breath, and Kurt murmured, “The world is so much bigger than this, Finn. Bigger than either of us can imagine.” A shift, and it felt like Kurt rested his cheek on top of Finn’s head, still a little higher from sitting on his knees. “You’ll find your place in it.”

Finn sniffed and squeezed tighter. “We both will.”

“We both will,” Kurt echoed, softer, and Finn held on to him like a life preserver for a really long time.

He wasn’t totally sure how much longer he would have held on if Kurt’s phone hadn’t buzzed on the coffee table, making both of them jump a little. Kurt pulled back, not in any hurry, and offered Finn a small smile and a squeeze of the arm before sliding off his knees to grab the phone.

On looking at it, Kurt let out a breath, his mouth twitching up.

“What’d you get?” Finn asked, automatically leaning forward before remembering it was totally rude to spy on people’s texts. A sweet, warm expression was spreading across Kurt’s face, and he didn’t answer, just held up his phone so Finn could see.

_> > **Blaine:** Love you Kurt Hummel.  <3 Call me, want to know you’re still ok. Miss you babe :)_

It was sort of weird, because even though Kurt talked about Blaine all the time - like, seriously, _all_ the time - he never talked about this part. The part where it was really real.

The side of Finn’s mouth turned up, and Kurt lowered his eyes shyly back to his phone. “Dude,” Finn said, “I don’t think that crab guy is even on Blaine’s radar.”

“Yeah,” Kurt said softly, texting something quietly back and looking one more time before setting the phone aside. “At least one of us had his heart in the right place.”

“I don’t know. I think you did, too.”

“I threw myself at him because we were having our first fight, and I was scared I was going to lose him to Crabs.” His eyes flicked up. “I’m calling him that, now. Really, thank you for that.”

“No problem,” Finn said with a grin. “Okay, but why were you scared to lose him?”

Kurt frowned at him. “Because he’s my boyfriend, and I want to keep it that way.”

“Because?”

“Because I _love_ him, and--”

“Exactly!”

Kurt blinked at him, and Finn straightened up, rather proud of himself. “Because you love him. So you did it with him because you love him.” Kurt’s eyebrows went up a little, and Finn bumped his shoulder again. “Sounds like a pretty good reason to me.”

Kurt took some time to think, and Finn hoped it made as much sense out in the air as it did in his head.

“Maybe,” Kurt finally conceded. “But I don’t--mentally. Mentally, I wasn’t ready.”

“Why? Because you were scared?” Kurt glanced up, his eyes getting that vulnerable look again, and Finn offered him a hesitant smile. “Dude, I was scared.”

“...With Santana, you mean?”

“No. Tonight.” Kurt frowned, and Finn shifted around to look at him better, resting his back against the arm of the couch. “It’s...it’s like Brittany.” A blank stare. “When you dated her for a while. You guys kissed, right?”

“I’ve instructed you to never speak of that week again,” Kurt said darkly, but seemed to think about it anyway. “But yes. There was mouth-to-mouth contact.”

“And that was your first kiss, right?”

“...Technically,” Kurt said, reluctant. “I still hold that that one didn’t count, but--”

“Like that,” Finn said, grinning with triumph. He was on _fire_ tonight. “Santana was my first time doing it with someone, but it didn’t mean anything. So it didn’t count. Rachel...it’s the first time it’s been someone I really loved, you know?” Kurt nodded, his eyes a little cloudy. “So yeah, I was totally terrified, dude. It was like the _real_ first time. I didn’t want to screw it up.”

“I hear that,” Kurt said under an exhale.

“Yeah.” Finn glanced at the fireplace, remembering the total disaster of when Rachel first asked, and curled into himself a little. “I mean...I still don’t think we did it for the right reason. The first time she asked, it was just to make her acting better or something. And that--I mean, it hurt, you know? So I told myself I wasn’t gonna. But tonight...just, I was mad, and I was freaking out, and I kind of think she just did it to make me calm down. Because she couldn’t give me any real reasons to feel better about it. Except that I had her.”

Kurt muttered something under his breath, looking heavenward. “I am going to have a talk with that girl.” He shook his head, then swiveled around to cross his legs, facing Finn. “Okay. Maybe it wasn’t the ideal situation for the two of you.” He pulled his knees up and hugged them, keeping his ankles crossed and looking all of twelve years old. “Do you regret it?”

Finn thought about it. About how they had moved slow, and whispered to each other what they needed, and looked in each other’s eyes until he’d needed to drop his head to her shoulder. About how her eyes had been so big, full of shaky trust, and how she’d dug her fingers into his back like she didn’t want him to disappear.

“A little,” he admitted. “Just for how it happened. But I think...I not-regret it more than I regret it. Does that make any sense?”

“Hm. Just enough, I suppose.” Kurt leaned to the side to rest his head on the back of the couch. “That helps, actually. Who is anyone to tell us what matters or what doesn’t? What’s the right way to do something and what’s the wrong way?” He glanced at his phone, then back down, his face set with resolve. “I think that’s something we’re perfectly capable of deciding for ourselves. Both of us,” he emphasized, aiming it right into Finn’s eyes, and Finn nodded.

“Both of us,” he echoed, just like Kurt had before, and Kurt smiled. Warm and bright and real.

“Well,” Kurt said after a moment, reaching to grab his nearly-empty mug, “here’s to...figuring it out, I guess. However slowly we get there.”

Finn nodded, picking up his own. “And to going from awkward sort-of virgins to awkward sort-of not-virgins.”

Kurt laughed, shaking his head. “And to the future. Whatever that future may be.”

Yeah. He liked that. “To the future.”

They clinked their mugs, and drained their milk, and let out their breath.

“Ugh,” Kurt said as he set his empty mug back down. “I vote we be done thinking thoughts and feeling feelings for the night. How about you?”

“Yeah. Totally.”

“TV?”

“ _Deadliest Warrior_ ’s on.”

“So is _Project Runway_.”

“So’s _Adult Swim_.”

“So is _My Fair Wedding_.”

Finn wrinkled his nose, not able to do much more than laugh. “Food Network?”

Kurt grinned. “We have a winner.”

-

Very, very late that night, after his mom had gotten home and unknowingly woken them both up by pulling a blanket over them and turning off the flickering screen, Finn stayed where he was, somehow having ended up pillowing his head on his arm on Kurt’s stomach and hopefully not crushing him too bad, and he thought about a lot of things, for a long time.

Softly, in case he’d fallen back to sleep, Finn said, “Hey, Kurt?”

“Hmm?” Okay, not totally asleep. Good enough. Finn turned to rest his chin on his arm so he could look at him.

“You know what you said...what you said I was? Like...worth a lot?”

Without opening his eyes, Kurt said, “Valuable beyond measure?”

“Yeah. That.”

“Mm. What about it?”

“Just...you know that’s you, too, right?”

Kurt’s eyes opened. Finn couldn’t make out much about his expression in the dark, but Kurt’s voice was warm as he gently patted Finn’s back. “Good night, Finn.”

Finn considered getting up, but nah - this was just fine.

“Night.”


End file.
